


From A Trevelyan To A Rutherford

by StormWildcat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Celebrations, Drinking, Eating, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormWildcat/pseuds/StormWildcat
Summary: This day was merely a fantasy to them, but now the young Lady Trevelyan and Commander Rutherford are getting married.





	From A Trevelyan To A Rutherford

**Author's Note:**

> Was feeling sappy so have a wedding day! Considering writing a chapter 2 for the party at my Cullen's request. XD

Never in his life, not in a million years, did Cullen Stanton Rutherford believe he would ever get married. Regardless of the lack of oath to the Templars, swearing off relationships (emotional or otherwise), he just never thought there would be time. Commanding the army of the Inquisition and playing his role of advisor took up nearly all of his time. If he were to be completely honest, even granted a millennia of free time, he figured romance was out of the cards for him. A severe lack of social skills when interacting with the fairer sex saw that the last nail in the courtship coffin was hammered in deep.

Yet he had done it. Despite his executive military position, countless hours a day soaked up by the Inquisition and demonic battles and the swarm of butterflies in his stomach coupled with perpetual cotton mouth, Cullen managed to successfully “bag himself a keeper” as Varric so succinctly puts in. After much effort and with great eagerness, he slowly but surely courted the Herald of Andraste herself, Inquisitor Evie Trevelyan. Strong, well-spoken, optimistic and gorgeous, she was the beacon of light and hope he desperately needed during such a dark, dangerous stage of the world and mankind.

Now peace was rampant once again. Corypheus had been defeated, the rifts and demons almost completely dispelled, and the people of Thedas could breathe again. With this era of victory songs and celebration, Cullen was able to finally decide what his next move in life was; marriage.

On a particularly sunny day in spring, the wildflowers and trees were in full bloom, inside a small but elegant church, familiar faces had gathered to bear witness to a day Cullen thought to be nothing more than the dream of a stutter, romantic, hopeless fool. As he took his place of honor as the groom in front of the small sea of witnesses, he couldn’t help but smile. Closest to him sat a thrilled row of the Rutherford siblings. Rosalie grinned at her brother so wide, Cullen feared her cheeks would fall off. Brother Branson and his wife were next, both quietly displaying their excitement over Cull’s big day. Mia had taken the seat at the aisle, a place of honor he’d reserved for the eldest of the lot. A sweet smile beamed at her younger brother which he happily returned. One of her eyebrows raised, a look he knew as one of convincing, and she motioned to her right at the toddler, their nephew, with a tilt of her head and flick of hazel eyes.

It took Cullen a moment before he realized Mia wasn’t just making sure he took notice of the child; she was signaling t her brother that he was expected to be next in adding to the Rutherford ranks. Amber eyes widened and his face warmed as he proceeded to have a mute argument with his sister before the congregation. Subtle hand gestures and scrunched features represented Cullen’s desire to not discuss the matter of children already. He wasn’t even officially wed yet. Downward angle of Mia’s chin and an upward stare begged to differ, offering the obvious that he would be married soon and therefore, his silent excuse was invalid.

Confused by the signals and screwed up expression on Cullen’s face, Josephine leaned closer to Leliana at her side. “What is going on with Cullen?”

The redhead carefully considered the man’s understated movements and pointed looks aimed at the woman in the front row and translated. “It seems that they are arguing.”

“Arguing? About what? Could she be,” the Montilyet gasped. “Could she be a jilted lover of the Commander’s? But if so, why would he invite her? And why would she sit in the front row of all places? Perhaps she is here to convince him to leave his new bride for her! Quickly, Leliana, have that woman assassinated before the Inquisitor comes! We mustn’t let her get blood on her dress!”

“Relax, Josie. That’s no former lover of the Commander. It’s his elder sister, Mia,” the spymaster assured. “The entire front pew is all of the Rutherford siblings.”

“Oh…oh thank the Maker,” Josephine sighed, hand position over her heart in a quietly dramatic show of relief.

“Honestly you are far too quick to create your own gossip,” Leliana chuckled.

“True. And I should know better than to assume she was an ex-lover of Cullen’s.”

“Why is that?”

“Do you believe that a man like the Commander _has_ an ex-lover to speak of? I certainly can’t truly imagine it now that I think about it.”

“That is harsh, Josie. True,” Leliana grinned. “But harsh.”

From the bride’s side, the Trevelyan’s admired the quiet antics, recognizing them as the same wordless conversations they’d had innumerable times before, Evie included. “Well, at least he’ll be able to keep up with Evie,” Lady Trevelyan amused with a smile. “Hopefully he can keep her in line as well.”

Her nephew Max snickered under his breath. He turned and added, “You really think anyone can keep Evie fully under control? She likely has the Commander eating out of her palm by now.” As he joked with his aunt, he caught the gaze of the resident Tevinter who seemed to be admiring him from his pew behind them, one brow raised and lips peeled into a thoughtful pout. “This must be the mage Evie wrote about,” Max muttered under his breath as he returned the favor, taking in the other curious man’s bust.

“What’s that, dear?” Lady Trevelyan changed her focus from her future son-in-law’s muted quarrel back to her antsy nephew.

“Oh, nothing, Auntie. Just…still surprised we’re sitting at Evie’s wedding. And she picked the man herself,” he fabricated, flashing an incredulous look at the mother of the bride.

“Oh, I _know_! I never thought this would happen in my lifetime. Hopefully they start on my grandchildren right away. Cullen is a catch and they’ll make beautiful babies.”

“Maybe give them some time, Auntie,” he laughed quietly. His eyes wandered back to Dorian who was enjoying watching the Trevelyan’s recovery and deflection from being caught off guard. An amused, interested smirk curled up under the mage’s jet black mustache. Max imitated the look, adding a quick wink before returning his full attention to his new discussion as they awaited the bride’s arrival.

“Ooo, I like this little minx in the front row,” Dorian rumbled lowly.

“Just keep your pants on until after the ceremony, alright Sparkler?” Varric negotiated with a chortle.

“Oh please, I’m not a barbarian, you know,” the proud mage shot back. “No this will be played out like a game of chess; I’ll make a few moves, he’ll make his, we bypass the knights, step around the queen, avoid the king and…go off the board.”

“I’m not chess player, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Well when your main goal is to ravage the other play, it certainly is.”

“Ravage, huh? Here I thought you weren’t a barbarian,” the dwarven rogue feigned scandalized offense.

“Oh shut it. My ravaging is coolly calculated and much more eloquent than the spastic thrusting that so many other men subject their lovers to,” Dorian’s nose was upturned in a haughty display. “And from my experience, that kind of treatment runs rampant here in Ferelden.”

Varric couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. “Don’t say that too loud or the Herald’s gonna hear you take a wing at Curly’s bedroom integrity.”

“I said in my experience and, it pains me to say this, our dear Commander never caved to my charms to redeem the males of Ferelden,” the mage sighed.

“How heartbreaking.”

“Isn’t it? However I can pardon Cullen anyway as, according to our blushing bride, is not one of the offending parties,” Dorian raised a mischievous eyebrow.

“Yeah? Hey if you got details I could use ‘em for my romance series.” Silence reigned between them.

“….Credit me and we have an accord.”

“Deal. Whattaya got?”

“Well, first off, apparently the Commander’s mouth can run a bit when they-“

“Oi! Would you two quiet down about your frickle frackle? Think she’s comin’ soon, yeah?” Sera’s irritated order hissed at them in a hoarse whisper. Rainier, Cassandra and a few others shot their disapproving looks at the gossipy men. All except Iron Bull and Vivienne who both leaned forward and without words expressed their interest in joining in on the book discussion later at the wedding feast. Both the archer and mage nodded their approval at their requests before the long-awaited music played, each instrumental note ringing off the stained glass windows.

Cullen immediately dropped his ongoing argument with his sister and set his sights down the aisle. The large double doors opened. His heart nearly stopped. Air refused to inflate his lungs. Any and all noises around him, even the music proudly announcing her arrival, it all fell on deaf ears. His bride was absolutely breath-taking (literally in Cullen’s case). White fabric draped perfectly around her body, giving her a regal, eloquent look while hugging her curves in a flattering, eye-catching way. Likely an appreciated side effect by designed and proposed to the seamstresses by Evie herself. She always did like to stoke Cullen’s fire in subtle ways under the noses of others. In the back of his primal subconscious, he made a memo to himself to fully enjoy assisting her out of the garment that night.

The rest of Cullen concentrated on the beautiful bride as she glided down the aisle, her features sore from smiling. Lord Trevelyan escorted her, beaming with pride with his daughter on his arm. All of the onlookers now standing in the pews let loose their awe and compliments amongst themselves, mostly drowned out by the bridal fanfare.

Had it not been for her father, Evie may have sprinted to her groom’s side. Surely she was excited to get married, joined forever in the eyes of all who attended and the Maker, finally able to change her last name to something that would allow her tongue to introduce herself by her full first name. (Rhyming was not attractive to her in the realm of a person’s name and hers was offensively sing-song.) There were al so many reasons to quicken her pace, but the biggest pull was Cullen and his formal dress.

It was rare for Evie to see her love in anything other than his armor or at least the outerwear that hid beneath the steel. Sometimes she spied him in his training clothes. And of course there were the times they were hidden away, Cullen wearing nothing but scarred skin and a light blush on his cheeks. Sure there was the Winter Palace where their whole company, the couple included, donned regal military jackets and trousers. Cullen’s handsome features stood out that night more than usual. But the ensemble he chose for their matrimony was reminiscent of nobility. A Trevelyan knows the look when they see it.

A jacket white and crisp hugged broad chest and arms built for steel sword and heavy shield. Matching trousers were tailored perfectly, adorned with silver detailing that matched the same on the top. Nestled on his shoulders was one of Evie’s wedding gifts to her betrothed; a new mantle of jet black fur from a ferocious wolf she’d hunted herself. The design matched his usual attire, complete with cloak tails cascading his front on either side and covering part of his back, fabric dark as the night. He looked downright dashing. Even with the crooked smile and dreamy look in his eyes.

Once she was handed off with tears of joy by her father, she whispered to Cullen, “You alright?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, “What? Oh yes, I’m…amazing. Just kind of lost my hearing for a bit.”

Evie’s forehead wrinkled. “What? Why?”

Cullen’s hands found hers. “Well, because when the most gorgeous sight you’ve ever set your eyes on is walking towards you, nothing else even merits your attention.”

The bride blushed, her knees weaker than they had been moments ago. “You romantic,” she smiled. Her groom grinned before they were hailed by Sister Giselle. The two quietly worked out their nervous and giddy chuckles as quickly as they could while their wedding ceremony began.


End file.
